Faces of the Empire
by Derruhm
Summary: 100-themes challenge. Empires rise and fall. But their stories last forever. Theme 8: Away.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

She lay on the ground in a useless heap, all the strength drained from her frame. She could hear their footsteps drawing nearer. She cried as their shadows fell over her. She looked up at her conquerors, her expression falling. There was one man, a pleasant looking sort, with chestnut colored hair and a...woman? No, that one was also a man too...or at least she thought so. It was hard to tell, especially in that dress.

The brown haired male strolled up to her, a soft, compassionate smile on his face. He extended a hand to her politely and spoke, his voice soft but authoritative. "Hello there. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lithuania. This is my partner Poland," he said, indicating the, um, male behind him.

Poland waved politely. "Like, hi," he said. He then curtsied politely and walked up to Lithuania's side, sliding his fingers through the spaces between the others.

Lithuania smiled at Poland, but didn't say a word. Instead he turned back to the crippled nation before them, still smiling brilliantly. "You're going to be a part of us now, okay?" Her saddened look of desperation didn't move him the slightest. "It's okay. We're not going to beat you up like those Tartars."

She couldn't say anything though. She could only cry as everything was stripped away from her.

xxx

He lay on the ground in a useless heap, all the strength drained from his body. He heard them pounding on his door. He cried to himself as he heard the wood splinter. He looked up at his conquerors, tears in his eyes.

The heavy thud of boots on the floor sounded more like gun fire. The towering figure looked down on the smaller nation, a sweet smile playing at the conqueror's lips.

"Hello there. Let me introduce myself. My name is Ivan. You're going to be my new best friend," he said oh so sweetly. The other countries behind him chuckled, as if it were some sort of awful joke. Ivan only smiled, grabbing the smaller nation by the throat and heaving him to his feet. "Don't worry, we're going to have lots of fun together."

Lithuania couldn't say anything though. He could only sob as his country was torn apart all around him.

Oh irony, what a bitch.

xxx

_So starts my 100-Themes challenge. I had a hell of a time with this one too. Lithuania is NOT my specialty. In the 1300s the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth expanded eastward into the Ukraine, which was during this time widely occupied by the Tartars. Under the Polish-Lithuanian rule the Ukrainians were subjected to very harsh treatment by the Poles. In the 1600s the Ukraine found itself in an alliance with Russia due to the internal resistance to the occupation. This didn't work out too well for them either, as Russia ran the Poles out, only to exploit the Ukrainians themself. Meanwhile Russia, Prussia, and Austria picked apart the rest of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Russia ending up with most of Lithuania, effectively doing to the broken up nation exactly what it did to Ukraine before. Silly Toris, guess you've never heard of Karma eh?_


	2. Love

**Love**

"You know that French is the language of love~" Francis insisted, batting his eyelashes playfully at the other male.

"Nn, what?" America grunted, his mouth full of hamburger. He chewed some more, then shakily swallowed it. "What was it you were saying?"

France didn't let America's thick headedness get to him though. It was worth it, if only to get under England's skin. He leaned in over the younger man, sliding his hand under the other's chin. "I said, you know, that French is the language of love~" he purred.

"Really? I don't think so. I think American is much better," Alfred said, sounding confused. He reached for another hamburger. But it was not there. He looked around, at a loss for where his poor hamburger could be.

"Get your hands off him you damned frog!"

Oh, there was his hamburger, all over Francis' face. The Frenchmen sputtered, instantly backing away from the American and wiping the condiments off his face.

"That wasn't very nice England," Alfred said, looking a little hurt for a moment. "You ruined my hamburger."

"Your brain is made of hamburgers America," England huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I should remind you that you speak ENGLISH not American!"

"No I don't," Alfred said, grinning at England. "Because I don't use all those silly words that I don't know what they mean that you do. And I can spell color right!"

England gritted his teeth. "Listen you! I—"

"But it doesn't matter," America continued. He smiled at England, his true affection showing in his eyes. "Because even though you talk funny I love you anyway."

England stood there, jaw dropped in utter shock for a moment. He had to force it closed with an audible click. Then he scowled, pretending to be mad all over again. "Yeah yeah you big sap. That doesn't make you right."

Which, in English, meant: I love you too.


	3. Light

**Light**

Little Korea stared up at the sky, narrowing his eyes viciously at the glowing ball of light.

"Korea! What are you doing?" China barked, grabbing the younger country and effectively breaking his highly damaging staring contest.

"I invented the sun," Korea said, beaming at China.

China sighed. "You almost invented blindness. Then what would I do with you? You've got to be more careful Korea!"

The younger nation didn't seem to register this, but instead started gazing off at the eastern horizon. "So.... Where does the light come from?"

China was a bit taken aback. He put his hand on Korea's shoulder, pointing off onto the distant horizon. "See that line there? Where the earth touches the sky? Just a little bit beyond that is where your brother Japan lives," China said, his smile somewhat sad. "It's by his house that the sun rises."

Korea looked surprised, then smiled up at China with great adoration.

"I invented East!"

Sigh. Oh well, hopefully he would grow out of that soon enough.


	4. Dark

**Dark**

Japan sat in silence. It was the kind of silence that, miraculously, was louder than any noise. The silence of loneliness.

He'd been shut up in house for centuries by himself. His boss said it was for the best though. After all, other cultures would only be detrimental to the young nation. They would just erode his individuality and take advantage of him. That was what he was told.

Was that why all those people had to die? It didn't seem like worth to him. Besides, he rather liked that little boy with the yellow hair that his boss allowed to come over. He always brought new and interesting things with him which he would show to Japan.

He frowned, hugging his knees against his chest as he peered through the window. The moonlight trickled in, spilling onto the floor and bringing some light to the darkness. His eyes lingered on the shape of the moon, noting the contrasting blotches of grey.

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't see an old man grinding medicine.

xxx

_The people who died refer to the casualties of the Shimabara Rebellion. After that the Shogun cracked down on foreign trade so that only the Dutch (and the odd German or Prussian here and there) and the Chinese could trade with Japan._

_Different cultures traditionally see different shapes on the surface of the moon. The Chinese see a man grinding medicine, while the Japanese see a rabbit pounding mochi. Personally, I see a bunch of grey blobs._


	5. Rot

**Rot**

England doubled over, unable to hold his lunch down. The smell alone was enough to make one vomit, much less the sight of it. Bodies. Everywhere. The dead overflowed the streets, their rotting corpses smelling from all over Europe.

England's eyes watered. How could this have happened to him? What had he done to bring the wrath of God down on himself so heavily? It was spreading, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Soon it would be in London, and then even greater numbers would perish. He wrapped his arms around himself, sinking against a wall, the weight of the epidemic sitting on his shoulders.

The rats skittered away from him, then slowly approached him again, sniffing at him. He looked at the disgusting little rodents, hatred burning in his chest. These stupid rats! It was there fault! England raised his foot and brought it down on the nearest rat's head. CRUNCH! As the one disappeared though, five more replaced it.

"Fucking rodents!" England screamed. The only images running throughout his head were the casualties of the the pandemic.

He sunk to the ground, the tears finally spilling over. He sobbed to himself quietly as the Black Death overtook his house.

xxx

_The Black Death, also known as the Bubonic Plague, devastated nearly half of Europe's overall population. It appeared first in Sicily in 1347, brought to Europe by traders from the Black Sea. It first arrived in England in 1348, and by 1349 had devastated London. The Plague disappeared as mysteriously as it came later that year._


	6. Break

**Break**

He dropped to his stomach in order to avoid the bullets being hurled at him. He pointed his gun ahead, his hands trembling as he tried desperately to aim it. 'I can't do this' he thought, his heart shaking in his chest. He swallowed hard, then clenched his eyes shut and fired. He heard and anguished scream tearing from across the battlefield. He dared to open his eyes, seeing the Frenchman sink to his knees, dropping his gun.

"Please! Stop! I surrender! I surrender! Don't shoot!" he cried, flailing his arms.

America breathed a sigh of relief. Good, that would be the end of it. He sure hoped this would be that last he'd see of France. After all, it was a long journey from his house to here. He surely wouldn't bother hi—

"Get off my land you damn frog!" England shouted, firing again at the Frenchman.

Francis bolted to his feet and ran several paces before slipping in the mud and falling on his face. England scowled and started to reload his musket.

"What are you doing!" America said, getting up and grabbing the gun away from England. "He already gave up! Just let him go. He won't bother us anymore... look at him. He's... kinda pathetic."

England frowned at his little brother, snatching his gun back. "Fine. He can go. But I'm leaving protection here with you. I don't want to see him anywhere near you. Do you understand?"

America nodded solemnly, looking down at the ground. When had England become so harsh?

xxx

"Listen America, I called you here today because, frankly, you're not pulling your weight. I need more taxes in order to keep you safe," England said, sliding a stack of parchment in the young colony's direction. "This is just a modest tax increase on paper goods. I think you'll find it more than fair."

America held the parchment, his eyes scanning over it, though he didn't really want to read it. "Why didn't you ask me first?" He couldn't help but look a bit hurt by his older brother's actions. "You know... if you needed the money that bad, you could have just asked. I wouldn't have minded you know."

England sighed, giving the other a perfectly apathetic look. "Listen America, this isn't about want. This is about need. We need those taxes, whether you want to pay them or not. You don't really get a say in the matter. You know that I don't either. I have to pay my taxes just the same. So does everyone else. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop making such a fuss."

America clenched the paper in his hands, slamming it back on the desk with a little more force than necessary. "At least you get a say."

He turned and walked out of England's office. When had his brother become so cold?

xxx

America tip-toed quietly through the streets, his followers in toe. They quietly stalked onto England's ship, taking great care not to alert anyone of their presence.

"Remember," America said, his voice hushed, "don't mess anything up. Just the tea, alright."

There were various nods and muted cheers as men began to take the various crates and barrels of tea and toss them over the sides of the ship. Oh, England was going to be mad alright. America knew his older brother, he'd be over it soon and things would go back to the way they use to be.

Or... at least he thought so...

The next morning England had reportedly gone into an absolute fury after hearing the news. After everything he had done for that ungrateful little brat! He didn't have any choice but to send more soldiers. He'd discipline that little brat and teach him to have more respect.

Standing at the point of a gun, America could no longer feel sympathy for his brother. When had England become so vengeful?

xxx

The loving memories were a far, distant part of his past now it seemed. America and England had both taken up arms once again. This time against each other.

America no longer wanted to be England's colony. Frankly, he didn't even want to be his brother any more. He wanted to be independent, to break away and stand on his own two feet. There was little sympathy in him, as he watched the mighty empire sobbing at his feet.

And on the inside England broke apart, as America slipped away.

xxx

_The root cause of the American Revolution probably dates back to the French and Indian War. England, completely broke after this, increased the taxes in America to help pay for the war. It should probably be noted America was still paying the least amount of taxes than any other British colony at this point in time. It was the principal of taxing without given a voice in parliament that sparked the revolution, rather than the act of taxing itself. _


	7. Heaven

**Heaven**

Little Holy Roman Empire hadn't really paid attention to the turmoil that had been steadily gaining strength in his house. He knew that stuff like revolutions always happened at England and France's house, but he never had the slightest thought something like this would happen to him.

He supposed he should have been prepared when he saw _**that **_man standing in front of the church in Wittenberg.

"What are you doing sir?" the little Holy Roman Empire questioned the man, who appeared to be hammering something into the door.

"Oh, hello little boy," the older man said, smiling graciously. "I just had some concerns I wanted to bring to the church's attention is all."

The younger boy crossed his arms over his chest, making a face. "You don't have to talk to me like I'm a juvenile! I understand important things you know!"

The man chuckled and patted the boy on the head. "Of course you do!" he said with a smile. He crouched down to the boy's height and said to him quite seriously, "the church is doing some things that go against the teachings of Christ. They're trying to sell passes into heaven, and that's not right. Surely you understand that?"

The boy cocked his head to the side, hiding his confusion by trying to look contemplative. "But the church has sold indulgences for centuries," he said, trying to put some conviction in his words. "Why is it wrong now?"

"Well," the older man said, "Just because you do something bad for a long time doesn't make it good," he said conclusively. He pat the boy on the head and stood back up. "We get into heaven by the blood of Jesus Christ. Not by the donation of earthly goods or by kind works. And not by the church."

Blasphemy! Surely the church was going to burn this man as a heretic! "Mister! You can't say things like that!"

The man only smiled though as he began to walk away. "You'll understand one day, Holy Roman Empire. You and the rest of the world."

Yes, it was **that** man and his papers that had sewn the seeds of revolution in his people. Before he knew it, it was not just his empire that was endangered. The continent itself was splitting apart, between the new and the old, the idealists and the fundamentalists, the heretics and the church itself.

Or were they heretics at all? As he grew older, the young boy did in fact find himself agreeing with what the old man had told him all those years ago...

xxx

_That Man is, obviously, Martin Luther, the number one most famous reformer of the Catholic Church, um, ever. He wasn't the first to point out the Church was rotten to the core, but it was his '_95 Theses Against the Sale of Indulgences_' that finally got people all riled up about it. Nowadays, the church more or less agrees with Martin Luther's conclusions, but it was the source of much angst all across Germany, and indeed, all of Europe at the time._


	8. Away

**Away**

Germany stood quietly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared ahead plaintively. He made no movements, not even the slightest twitch in his facial expression. He couldn't show any weakness, not now, before his enemies.

Prussia smiled at his little brother, trying to combat the stoniness in the other's expression. "Chill out West. I'm just... going away for a while. That's all," he said.

He could still see the little boy that Germany had once been in his eyes. The adorable little trouble maker who he'd babysat so fondly once upon a time. Not that he'd ever told him that, God forbid. He'd always reminded Germany what a punk he was and that he was more trouble than he was worth.

Ah, but look at him now. Little Germany was all grown up now. He wasn't so little anymore. When had he gotten taller than Prussia anyway? The older man only grinned at the thought though.

"You can take care of yourself now kiddo. You don't need my help," he said with a grin. He felt a heavy hand rest on his shoulder. Russia motioned that it was time to go. Prussia nodded and waved to the German again.

Germany stood, lips trembling, tears dripping out of the corners of his eyes. "WAIT!" he barked. He staggered forward, reaching out and grabbing his older brother's hand. He clung to it like death, holding on to the Prussian as he fell to his knees, tears flowing freely now. "Don't go," he said in a hushed whisper.

Prussia smiled at him, pulling away from Russia momentarily to turn back to his brother. "You never change West," he teased, looking into those teary blue eyes. He gently kissed his brother on the forehead, then pulled away. "Take care of yourself."

Germany tried to say something, but to no avail. All the words became jumbled in his throat, all the things he wanted to say, to scream, unable to escape. He watched at Russia led his other half away. Would he ever see him again? Probably not.

He watched as Prussia turned back, waving one last time before the two of them disappeared, somewhere far away Germany.

xxx

_After World War II Germany was divided up between the allies, the unfortunate eastern part of Germany going to Russia. West Germany and East Germany remained separated by a massive wall until October 1990. They're happily reunited again, though West had to put a good amount of effort into fixing East's devastated economy. Who's taking care of who now Prussia?_


End file.
